The unexpected hospital stay

Seven hours after my last post I was in the emergency room at Methodist hospital.  My wonderful daughter had the intelligence and determination to insist that we call for help despite my fever-hazed resistance, and thank-goodness she did.  It was a close call, sepsis and infectious colitis triggered by extremely low white and red blood cell counts; but here we are on the other side of it, healing and hoping and praying for a complete recovery, that the infection clears completely and there is an end to the fever.  And a beginning to the end of chemo.


My chemo has been moved out at least a week, there needs to be some additional healing and time without fever before we proceed.  And there is a new plan for chemo, moving to a less aggressive approach that will hopefully keep me out of the hospital.  12 weeks instead of 8, and chemo every week instead of every other.  More dependency on others to get to chemo weekly, but hopefully I will be stronger and can drive myself to my other appointments soon.  And, I am staying with family for a short while, until I have my strength back.  More walking and exercise is the key there.


And I'm learning more about healing and the role of my mind and attitude.   


I may not be strong, but I can act strong; I may not be healthy, but I can act healthy; I may not be brave, but I can act brave; and I may struggle to be happy, but I can chose to think of happier thoughts and times; because the first step in being the person you want to be is to demonstrate the qualities you wish to have.  And I want to be strong and healthy and brave and happy... for me, but mainly for my daughter, who is all these things and more.




p.s., My daughter and friends are keeping a caring bridge site updated now (caringbridge.org, search on my firstnamelastname).  I will continue to write my blog as I'm able.  

Hope

I've just passed my 4th of 8 chemo treatments, a point that marks a half way point in my chemo.  I have been very lucky to not have any of my sessions pushed off so far; but tonight I am running a low-grade fever from a secondary infection caused by the chemo, and my fear is if we can't get this infection under control, I will not be able to undergo chemo  next week and that would be devastating.

I find I need these sessions to stay on track to get me through the mental strain of this.  Not only that, I worry that the treatments will be pushed passed the point where my short-term disability will cover me, adding additional stress.  With all the challenges my body has had in managing the drugs, it has been impossible for me to maintain a normal routine and I have been unable to return to work.  I am still hopeful that the next round of drugs, which are different than the 4 treatments past, will cause fewer side effects.  The staff at the cancer center have said, while there is no guarantee, given what they've seen with other cancer patients, there is reason to hope.

And so I hope.

Hope is such a powerful word, but it is something I continue to struggle through when my body is being ravaged by the drugs... and I hate that.  It's as though my personality is being altered by the chemo as much as my body.  Finding hope, even moments of hope, each day is what gets me through.

The smile on my daughter's face, letting me know that she loves me.
A Bible verse, giving me strength to get through the next moment, and the next, and the next.
A friend, calling to check in, letting me know that no matter how hard it is to ask for help, no matter how many times I have to ask through this journey, that friends and family will be there - getting me through, supporting my daughter, giving hope.

I've never had such a hard time drawing on hope when I really need it.  Finding hope, especially drawing on my faith to sustain and provide hope, has been instinct since I was a young girl.  But now it's like a tug-of-war between me and the cancer, and sometimes the cancer is stronger and I fail.

And when I fail, and I am finding it hard to find hope, I find it hard to do the things that help get me through - like writing this blog, or even writing in my journal.  Because writing about this cancer journey when I am struggling is just too depressing and depression is the opposite of hope.  And I need to hang on to the hope.

The hope that tomorrow will be better.
The hope that it will somehow become easier to get through these treatments, if only mentally.
The hope that March will come, and with it will come the end of chemo and the start of something fabulous - the healing of my body and my mind.

Finding Myself

I found myself today.  It took until this afternoon, but finally I was back.  It is truly amazing what all these drugs can do to not only your physical, but mental health.  They can make it hard to recall who you are with out the drugs, which makes it difficult to draw on your usual coping mechanisms.

This morning was a challenge, still feeling sick, but needing to make a morning appointment at the cancer center.  Back in October, after finding out that I was positive for the breast cancer gene, I scheduled a meeting with the oncology therapist.  With high demand and limited resources, the earliest appointment I could get was January 5; but the appointment couldn't have come at a more opportune time.  I spent an hour talking with the therapist, and receiving affirmation that what I was going through was within the normal boundaries of what occurs when we are diagnosed with cancer, and also confirmation that for someone with my issues metabolizing drugs, drug therapy was not a good option.  

Regardless of how well we try to cope, some form of mental health intervention is typical for cancer patients.  Anti-anxiety and anti-depression medications are are common part of cancer treatment, but therapy also comes in the form of conversation, musical therapy and more holistic mind-body-spirit therapies, such as self-realization exercises, acupuncture and massage.   These non-drug modes are what I will need to pursue, and so starts another journey.

In writing this, I am aware that there is still a continued stigma attached with mental health issues, but I think it is an important aspect to explore and to continue to uncover.  Health and illness are by nature tri-fold, with the body, mind and spirit all being tightly intertwined.  If we are lucky, when our body is frail, our mind and spirit can compensate pulling us through to health; and when our mind becomes frail, we can leverage the physical and spiritual aspects to help pull us through.  But often the body, mind and spirit need help returning to health and balance.

Help for me comes in many forms.  It comes in call from a friend, checking in to see how I am doing.  It comes in a card, with beautiful verse to renew my spirit and remind me of my faith.  It comes in the form of  the love and support  I receive from my family and friends.  But it also comes in the form of formal therapy and  mental health practices, and I am happy to live in a time where there is so much available to help me through the mental health aspects of having cancer.  And I know one of the things I will take with me from this experience, is how important it is to treat all aspects of oneself in order to return to health, and that like the body, the mind can and does heal.

A new year

It's hard to believe it's been 2 weeks since I've posted on my blog.  Between the holidays and the chemo it's been tough finding opportunities to write. Today is the 5th day after my last chemo, which thankfully fell after Christmas.  The 3rd an 4th days after chemo are tough, the drugs seem to be at their highest in my system.  The anti-nausea drugs are also mood-altering drugs, which makes for a whole bag of mental tricks, none of which are fun, and I find it hard to find the positive aspects of life.  I no longer feel like me, and that makes me sad.

Throughout this journey I have worked hard to maintain a sense of who I am, the "me" without cancer. I think it would be different if I knew what to expect, but with my metabolic issues, each chemo treatment has brought a new situation that needs to be understood and dealt with, and it's draining.  Not just for me, but for my wonderful, amazing daughter, and that makes me sad too.  My next chemo, on Jan 12, will be the 4th of 8 sessions, half way done.  On chemo #5 they will change the drugs they are giving me and I am hopeful that they will bring fewer side-effects; what we do know is it will be different, again.

But it's a new year, and this year brings health and healing.  So I'm looking for milestones to mark the positive events.  In January, my daughter will be in a play at school, with a lead female role and I am so excited to experience this milestone with her.   February is bound to bring college decisions for her, and an exciting new territory for both of us.   We will also look forward to our church's camp rally, an annual event for us and a time to connect with friends.  Then there is March, a final chemo and a long-awaited return to work.  Positive milestones to focus on.

They are out there when I look for them, and so I look daily.  The positive milestones are what get me through each day:  seeing my daughter's face and feeling her love each day;  getting out of the house to do something normal once the worst is over; seeing my Dad after a week or more absence and seeing the relief on his face to see me once again; returning to church to pray and praise God for carrying me through each step of the way, because He does, and He will, all the way to healed.